Have a Nice Day
by thisisawittypenname
Summary: Just a small Greg Sara piece... pretty short, but good I hope :D Started as a oneshot, but a new chapter's been added.
1. A Good Day

Title: Have a Nice Day

Summary: Just a small one-shot Greg Sara piece

Disclaimer: Pay attention because I'm only going to say this once. I don't own CSI. Let's not dwell on it… it makes me sad.

A/N: This fic is for my sister, who prompted me (more like forced me) to write it. Seriously, she locked me in my room with naught but a pen, paper, and a chunk of stale bread to gnaw on in case of extreme hunger. Slave driver. Bu I still love ya, Lin! And so with one last word, I dedicate this fic to you: "windchime". One more thing: any mention of lucky frog socks is probably not true, but who knows? Maybe our favorite lab rat turned field mouse really _does_ wear amphibious footwear.

If it had been a bad day, Greg Sanders would have been dead right now. His body would be found mutilated in some dumpster somewhere, his bleach blonde hair burnt off. Test tubes shoved up his nose. Something, he imagined, to that extent. If she'd pulled a double today, or worked a really gruesome case, or had another awkward run-in with Grissom, there was no way she'd let him do this and live, of that he was sure.

But the fact that he was still alive, fully functioning (as well as he could be in this situation, anyways) _and_ kissing Sara Sidle spoke volumes to Greg. She'd had a good day, and now he was having one, too.

It's not like it had happened on purpose. Not that he didn't want it to, but do you really think that if Greg knew how to make this happen he would've waiting five years? This had been purely coincidental, aided only by (if anything) the fact that he'd been wearing his lucky socks. The ones with the frogs on them.

She'd come into the lab to find out what Greg had learned from the swabs she'd taken at the scene. At first he'd joked with her, "Oh, those… I haven't gotten around to those yet. Knew you wouldn't mind." He'd thrown in a showy wink just to make sure he would achieve the desired effect; and he did. That totally unique Sara Sidle 'I-don't-know-whether-to-laugh-or-to-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands' look, complete with the one eyebrow raised. Greg had found himself wishing he had a camera.

"Fine, fine" he'd admitted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I finished yours first, Sara. You'll always be my number one." Another cheesy pick-up line. Too bad they'd never worked. "Alright, Greggo. Let's see it" she'd smirk. Greg just grinned, picking up a manila folder from the table. "Results are right here" he told her, before holding it behind his back. "Come and get 'em." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and, from the fact that Sara looked like she was trying not to smile, Greg guessed she might just actually…

He was right. Her arms encircled his waist (although not before she let out an exasperated, but clearly amused, sigh), hands reaching for the DNA results. The only problem was that their proximity (and his own excitement) caused Greg to lose his balance, teetering forward. Dropping the folder, he grabbed the only thing he could reach, that 'thing' being Sara, and ended up pinning her between him and a nearby lab table, which broke their fall.

He'd stammered, at a loss for words, while Sara just looked shocked, if not a bit amused. Neither of them moved, even after Greg managed to choke out an apology, and then Greg did something that, had Sara had a bad day, would've caused her to kill him. Greg figured it was worth the risk.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

It Sara had had a bad day, she would've slugged him in the stomach and reprimanded him angrily while he doubled over in pain. If she'd had an average day, she'd probably push him off, gently explaining that her feelings for him were platonic, and that he'd been out of line. Greg figured she had a really great day, because she'd done none of those things. She'd had a really great day because unless he was sorely mistaken (which he wasn't) Sara actually responded to the kiss, smiling against his lips.

The only thing Greg could think of (besides the situation he and his coworker were in) as he and Sara kissed was that he hoped she'd have an even better day tomorrow…

A/N: Sorry is the characters seem kind of out of character, but… it's a fic, so it's bound to happen. Let me know what you think :D


	2. The Next Week

Title: Have a Nice Day

Summary: Just a small one-shot Greg Sara piece

Disclaimer: Pay attention because I'm only going to say this once. Well, actually, counting the first chapter I guess this makes it twice. Either way, I don't own CSI. Let's not dwell on it… it makes me sad.

A/N: I really didn't plan on making this piece more than one chapter, but I guess people really liked it and they asked for more. So… I hope this delivers. It didn't come as easily as I would like, and I still personally like the first chapter better, but I'm glad people asked for more. Thanks for all of the great reviews:D And I'd like to apologize for the hypothetical elimination of Frosty in advance. You'll see what I mean.

He'd watched her for the rest of the week after that kiss. Glass windows make for easy viewing of a certain Miss Sara Sidle; a fact he'd taken advantage of numerous times between identifying seminal fluid for Warrick and burying his head in a microscope for Grissom. While watching her, Greg noticed two things, the first being that as observant as these CSIs were supposed to be, they never caught on.

The second was that Sara'd yet to have a day as good as that one was.

She'd come close, though, he thought ruefully, like that day she'd spent interrogating a rather stubborn suspect. After hours in the interrogation room she'd emerged victorious, her trademark smirk plastered on her face, followed by a sullen looking perp accompanied by his very own police escort.

She'd come to the lab to tell him, and he tripped over his own two feet (his frog socks were as of then tumbling around in his washing machine). She'd laughed when he got up, shooting her a cheesy grin and admitting, "I just can't help falling for you". He remembered she'd rolled her eyes, although he could tell she was at least slightly flattered, and their faces moved closer. He could feel her breath on his lips, and he smiled, remembering the last time they were this close, and inhaled deeply, determined to imprint her scent on his memory.

Then he'd learned it was true when Catherine told him that Grissom was not a people-person; his supervisor walked in looking for Sara, and the moment was ruined. And that was the closest they came.

But then there was today. If that day when they kissed was Christmas, today was the day when Santa gets shot, Rudolph turns to a venison steak, and Frosty has an unfortunate accident involving a heat lamp.

He didn't know exactly what got her so worked up. He had some ideas, of course; she'd pulled a double on a really gruesome, dead end case; she'd dealt with an intolerable husband and a nasty transvestite nanny. And from what Warrick said, she'd gotten the "don't-get-emotionally-attached" sermon from Grissom again.

What he did know is that he, like most of the staff, should've ducked for cover when she came storming in the lab, demanding her latest test results in such a domineering voice that, had she not been so angry, Greg would have found completely irresistible.

How was he supposed to tell her the results weren't ready yet?

He guessed she saw the pained look on his face, like that of a new (might he add, excruciatingly attractive) puppy whose owner just yelled at him, and felt sorry because the next thing he knew she was apologizing and moving closer to rest an apologetic hand on his arm.

"You get so cute when you're angry" he tried to joke, shooting her a nervous grin, before he pulled her into a hug without thinking twice about it.

When he realized that he and Sara were standing in the middle of the lab, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist, and the fact that he was the party guilty of initiating such action, he braced himself for a sucker punch to the gut, or a loud yell accompanied by a violent shove (remember, today was akin to a day when three lovable Christmas icons met their untimely demise). But none came. Instead, Sara fell into his embrace, her body wracked with tears. This was a side of Sara Sidle Greg had never seen.

Their first kiss, that day in the lab, was hesitant. Cautious and new. This one, Greg noticed, was hungry and needy and beautiful and tasted of her tears.

Later, when Greg got home from (what he considered a very good day at) work, as he lounged on his sofa, TV set to mute, he thought to himself he wouldn't mind so very much if this kissing thing became a regular occurrence. He'd just have to remember to wash his lucky frog socks. He had a feeling he'd be wanting them.

A/N: I originally write all of my pieces on sheets of notebook paper late at night listening to a mix CD and wiggling my toes in crazy colored socks. Then I type it on the computer. Just thought I'd let you guys know I like it more now then I did when I first started typing it; I changed a few things from my rough draft to this. So? Good, bad? What did you think? I'm not sure if I want to continue this… it feels like there's more to the story, but I don't know what. I guess I'll sleep on it for a while if someone wants me to continue. Let me know.


	3. Aftermath

Title: Have a Nice Day

Summary: Just a small one-shot Greg Sara piece

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda… we all know the drill. It's not mine. Wish it was. Life goes on.

A/N: I think that the last chapter felt unfinished, so I'm adding _one_ more chapter. This is the last (God-willing) although I still think the first one is the best. It came more naturally. Not that this is swill or anything… is it?

The next day was turning out to be one of those weird dry spells at the lab' the kind of day when all of the criminals of Las Vegas decide to take a hiatus for a day, and the tourists remain sober enough to keep off of each other's throats. And although Greg knew these kinds of day were good in the sense of "no dead people", they made him antsy. More antsy than usual, that is.

He'd already joked with Nick about how miserably his team played last night, cracked his daily quota of stripper jokes with Catherine, attempted to beat Warrick in a video game and failed miserably, his pockets $20 lighter. He'd tried impressing Grissom with some little known fact about the dung beetle, which Grissom, of course, already knew. There was only one person left to find.

Sara, it turned out, was in one of the evidence rooms, pouring through a pile of evidence scattered across the illuminated table. He moved to stand next to her. "I thought there were no cases tonight" he commented, clearly puzzled.

"Cold case" Sara grinned at him a bit tiredly.

"Oh"

Greg glanced at her inconspicuously (or so he hoped) and sighed inwardly. She didn't look like she'd gotten much sleep, and her slumped posture and the frustration etched on her face signaled to Greg she was still… preoccupied about yesterday's case. Or maybe yesterday in general. Greg gulped, decided to address the elephant in the room, hoping to any God that would listen that Sara wouldn't make him sing soprano for bringing it up.

"Hey, Sara? About yesterday…and, um, last week - " He stopped abruptly when he saw her shoulders say, leaning her arms on the table for support. She was upset. Greg moved so he was standing behind her, and snaked his arms around her waist in a moment of sudden courage, pleased to feel her relax into his embrace. "I, uh, thought it was…nice" he whispered, searching for the right words.

She turned around, his arms now resting on the small of her back, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt before speaking. "Me too" she admitted, "But you shouldn't have to feel like you need to make me feel better like that. I mean, I don't need some pity kiss just because I got a bad case and I couldn't deal with it. And that first time…"

"I thought that was nice, too" Greg interrupted softly, smiling.

"It…we were at work and I should've kept my head. It's just; I don't want to feel like I'm forcing you to do anything because I can't keep my emotions in check. I - "

Greg interrupted her again, this time by brining his lips crashing into hers. When the need for oxygen became too great, Greg (reluctantly) pulled away, although his arms still remained resting on Sara's waist. "Sara" he said, as serious as she'd ever remembered seeing him, "I didn't do anything because of you moods…well, I did, but…God Sara, you haven't noticed? I've been wanting to do that for five year, but I didn't think you'd ever let me."

She just watched him, a shadow of understanding flickering across her features before he continued, "And I'm sorry I took advantage of the fact that you were either incredibly upset or incredibly happy, but if it was my only chance - "

Sara pressed a finger to his lips, whispering, "I won't let it be your only chance, anymore, Greg" before closing the distance between them. And for the rest of the afternoon, Greg found a much better distraction for slow days than losing to Warrick in the break room.

A/N: I think this has a nice, finished reel to it, probably because Greg and Sara actually have a conversation  I was going to use a reviewer's suggestion to have this take place at one of their apartments, but I don't think it fit, although the idea made me think about having something with more substance. Well, as you all know by now, reviews make me squeal with delight. The button's right down there, so… let me know what you think!


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